


Gloves and Scarves

by luciole_etoile



Category: Undertale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ambiguous-Gender Frisk, Anxiety, F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hate Crimes, Oblivious, Organized Crime, Papyrus Knows More Than He Lets On, Papyrus-centric, Platonic Soulmates, Queerplatonic Papyrus/Reader, Queerplatonic Relationships, Reader Is Not Frisk, Social Anxiety, Social Justice, ambiguous gendered reader, apartment dweller reader, ghosts??????????/, hints of supernatural influence, reader dislikes going outside, set in the same universe as apartment greenhouse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 11:09:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10965993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciole_etoile/pseuds/luciole_etoile
Summary: You dislike going outside of your home alone. The people in your building are fearful of you. Your supervisor might be a criminal. This stranger is really tall.Where are your glasses?





	Gloves and Scarves

I opened the door to find someone very tall, skinny and enthusiastic standing just above my door frame. Outside, in the hallway, there were playful tones. My moral code made it hard for me to close the door on them, even though this could be another one of those stupid tricks again. A few teens have been terrorizing my doorstep lately, knocking loudly and screeching like banshees before sprinting away giggling and laughing, only running when I actually come and answer. It was unlikely, though, as the stranger seemed to be a genuinely nice person, if a bit loud only naturally. That was alright.

“Hello! May I please have a few directions to this apartment office?” A slightly nasally voice asked me, and I wondered briefly if the new medication I had taken this morning had had side effects unknown to me. A pale face comes into view after long legs fold, and the stranger is crouching just under my doorframe now.

“If I remember correctly, the office should be somewhere near the elevator, which is to… What I think is your right? It’s on the first floor. I don’t suppose you might have walked past it?” I reply in my own voice, a somewhat raspy and nasally low tone. I wonder if I pitch my voice up a bit and increase maximum nose-speak, I might even sound a bit like this stranger.

“My friends and I had seen a round marble desk with humans at it, but there were only other people here to buy a room. They had been rude to us, but I suppose not all humans can get coffee in the morning!” The stranger replies cheerfully, that odd section of their mouth that looks like a grin stretching a bit. If I listen close enough, I can hear their sass. My morning is off to a great start. Now, if only I could find my glasses from where they’ve gone under the bed.

With an amused huff, I lean against the doorframe, careful not to step foot outside. “The rude humans must have been the receptionists. If you’d like, I can go with you to speak with them. They often are a bit stand-offish to many people. It’s common behavior among the people on the first floor. I’m sure that the other residents will be a bit nicer.” Especially with me by your side.

They make a movement again, and I assume they are nodding. They seem to pause before moving out of the doorway. “Are you comfortable with leaving your home in your state of clothing? Not that I mean to offend your sense of style, of course, you seem to enjoy being comfortable, much like my brother, Sans! We also appear to be matching in terms of color palettes.” Their cheerful tone rings a bit in my ear, but it’s about time I wake up anyways. What am I wearing? I forgot what I was doing before I started talking to this guy/gal.

I take a moment to look down at my outfit, squinting so hard my eyelashes kind of get in the way. Loose, blurry cream blob; feels warm and comfy. Probably wool. Kind of thick, too. I might be wearing a scarf indoors-- or it could be a part of the turtleneck?? My brain is very scrambled at the moment. What was in that medicine? Of course something so shitty tasting would have such bad effects.

I almost started talking to myself in second person again-- crap. Let’s see… okay, yeah-- that’s a rrrrrrrred(?) scarf, that one scarf that mom made me when I was like nine, with like stringy things hanging off at the bottom. Uhhhh…

I seem to be wearing some long black socks that go somewhere around my shins and maybe some baggy, dark gray sweatpants that might not be mine. I think the pair I’m wearing is passed down from my older sister. Looks like the ones she used to wear. I look back up from where I have been inspecting myself and notice matching color blobs. Honestly, isn’t having eyes the best? I can still see things, but not as good as I used to be able to-- shapes are unidentifiable if far away enough, and only things really big and close can be identified. For example-- this person in front of me. I think they’re wearing a mask or some makeup or something. Or maybe I’m hallucinating right now?

They have a pretty nice red scarf. Yeah, we match nicely. They also have on a white T-shirt and a leather jacket, with some jeans that hang on their hips kind of oddly. Miles of legs, to be honest. Like, so much leg? It’s almost funny, if not for how much taller they are than me.

“Oh yeah, we are matching.” I agree offhandedly, realizing it has been roughly three minutes since I looked at myself. I feel a bit narcissistic, but hey, I’m looking good on a day I was supposed to look good. That’s a good enough excuse to be happy, y’know? What with the whole ‘Whoops, I’m gonna die in a few years.’ thing. Might as well.

We’re quiet for a bit and I think that their friends might have gone to another floor to find someone to ask for directions-- but then I realize they’re just across the hallway, staring at me probably. I make out something blue and purple and then another blue thing before I give up on focusing. How long have I been talking to this person?

The stranger-- who I have classified as a friendly acquaintance now-- makes a happy noise before tugging on my hand gently. It is now that I realize that they are wearing some red gloves. Warm red gloves. That’s nice. This might be a nice person to nap on. Although for some reason, I appear to be a bit anxious around this person, I loosely curl my fingers around theirs and feel them gently squeeze my hand in theirs as a response. I feel warm now. And kind of bright. Like a lamp. That’s cool-- haha.

I don’t really notice how my lips have curled up in a smile, and step out the door frame without much anxiety. As long as I just get back after a few hours, I should be okay, right?

Hand in hand with this acquaintance I’ve made in what seems to be roughly six or seven minutes, I am lead to the elevator. Pressing the down button, I wait for the doors to open. Nearby are a flight of stairs, and behind me there are footsteps. Two pairs-- one seems to be wearing some sort of heels or boots while the other is lighter and maybe wearing sneakers. Considering that I saw a tall blue thing and a shortish maybe human child, I’m gonna assume those two are the Acquaintance’s friends? It’s awfully silent now, the light from the lamps on the walls in this early morning an ambiance, their buzzes the only thing heard. The walls are thick and covered in a neutral blue wallpaper, with swirling designs in white on them. They look a bit like the lace patterns on your aunt’s wedding dress, from what you can remember.

Ding. The elevator opens and we step in, the carpet on the halls muffling our footsteps, no matter how loud. There’s carpet in the elevator too, and I’m pretty sure that’s a pain to clean. Sometimes people spill stuff in the hallways, but spilling stuff in the elevator would mean that someone else would get to step in it. No one likes being dirty-- well, not everyone, really.

I turn around, and the blue blob, plus the maybe kid or short person, strike up a conversation.

I feel vaguely overwhelmed by the various hand movements the smaller blob is making-- sign language? Am I missing something here? While the other talks a lot louder than the Acquaintance, who is still holding my hand very gently. Upon a closer look, they might have a lot of red hair. It’s put in the usual ponytail shape, while they have a black sleeveless shirt on. Also wearing maybe jeans.

The small one is wearing what seems to be a long-sleeved article of clothing. It has two purple stripes on it, while the rest of the shirt is blue. They have shorts and leggings on, with the tiniest pair of red sneakers I have ever kind of seen on. It’s adorable. Where the hell are my glasses.

I make sure to squint really close at them before going, “I have no idea what either of you are saying. I can’t see very well. I don’t understand sign language.” I try to word this in my polite voice, the volume having gotten even quiet, my voice even higher. There’s something akin to fear to build up, anxiety making it worse. I press a button on the elevator’s shiny metal wall-- what I think is the first floor, going off of the time I came to use the elevator instead of stairs after a day at work. At some point, I was helping someone into my room and the stairs just weren’t gonna work. I think they were injured? I might have drank a lot after that.

The button lights up and I have a feeling I’m gonna get more volume, instead of quiet.

“Are the rooms here good?” This is a feminine voice with a lot of rasp to it, like they’ve been yelling a lot. I can hear the effort they make to lower their voice, seeming a lot gentler than some would think, going off of the many arm movements they made while trying to introduce themselves to me. I ponder the conditions of my room for a second, remembering the poor state it was in before I pulled my ass into gear. It had good structure, but the previous inhabitants were very… unclean. I would often find roaches in the bathtub-- prompting some bleach and a lot of chemicals. No roaches were to be in my presence.

While thinking, I made a facial expression of disgust, wincing. “The room I have been given originally had roaches and needed serious repairs. I don’t trust the supervisor to provide the necessary living conditions you need, so I advise you find another building.”  
The blue person(?) seems to go quiet, while the Acquaintance tries to lighten up the mood. “We could just give the supervisor a chance! Going off of the conditions of your room, you were very thorough in cleaning it, and it looks very nice now. I am sure that we can do the same!” I feel them squeeze my hand again, and I sigh, tilting my head a bit in the one-shouldered shrug.

“I guess we can give him a chance. But be careful of your wording-- the man dislikes being given orders, whether they be under the guise of helpful suggestions or not. He doesn’t like to be questioned very much either. He does like to talk about himself, but if you say the wrong thing or flatter him too much, he’s going to know what’s going on. He usually does-- everything in the building is his, anyways.”

“... Are you sure this man is a supervisor and not a criminal? He reminds me of a man I saw in a movie with my brother.”

I snort, the thought of the supervisor in a pinstriped suit and a fedora seeming oddly fitting, what with the constant way he smokes cigars and the slicked back hairstyle he likes to wear. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a few felonies or if he had a criminal background going on. He seems like the type of person to do drugs anyways.

“He could be really good at hiding it, but someone so naturally shady wouldn’t actively try to hide their activities, especially not the supervisor. He knows for himself how awfully suspicious he sounds sometimes. It’d be detrimental to his cause. I don’t know for sure though-- maybe he manipulates the security guards around here to listen in on everything. Maybe he’s collecting information on you and I right now, through some weird hidden camera in this elevator or something.” ‘Maybe’ my arse. He’s totally doing it. I once caught one of the guards hiding a camera in his pocket. Stalkers.

The trio is very quiet for a moment, and I inwardly wonder if they were thinking about conspiracies on the supervisor or if I was a crazy person and this building was a mental asylum before the Acquaintance squeezes my hand again as they talk in a soft voice.

They begin to say something along the lines of, "You seem familiar--" before the elevator dings and opens up to a bright space. The first floor, and at the round marble desk in front of the elevator, there are three wide-eyed receptionists. Or, at least, I think they are. As we get closer to them, I imagine their faces. One, in particular, looks especially surprised, but then  sniffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, elbowing her co-workers to get back to work. That, I note internally, is the new one. It's obvious by the way she jitters and the fold of her collar, her tie, the way she leaves her first two buttons undone. She reveals her chest too easily-- must be here to try and seduce the boss. Workers know there's no need for a tie, nor for any button-up tops like we're an ofice building. It's easier to see these details up close.

I forgot to put on shoes, but socks cover my feet like shoes so they count in my mind. Besides, I don't really care about looking nice in front of someone who plans on using seduction on my boss.

My hands are enveloped in the glove of the Acquaintance, but they're sweaty, so I slip them out and I place them onto the marble countertop, not slamming them down, but just very normally placing them there with a slight slap. It's the sound of flesh in contact with a rock. Like someone getting hit in the face. I register that the friends are filing behind me, while the Acquaintance stands beside me. I feel like I'm a detective interrogating someone-- that someone being this now sweaty newbie. I have a feeling she doesn't like me at all.

She wears a nice shade of red lipstick, though. I think I saw it at the dollar store once. 

"Hey, the guy here wants to rent a room. Are you doing your job?" I ask casually, as if I can't feel her burning, blurry stare on my tits.

"I am doing my job-"

"Nice to meet you, 'doing my job'. I didn't know you were in a relationship-- but I didn't ask for either of those details." I pop the good ol' 'piss 'em off with a bad joke' tactic, and it works. Sweet. 

"Where'd you get your lipstick from, 'doin' my job'? I remember seeing it at that dollar store just down the street. Didja get it there, honey?" Whoops. I pulld the 'demeaning endearments' one too. I knew that being called baby names always made people feel like babies, so I sometimes did it to piss people off. Oddly enough, 'doing my job' seems to be trapped. Her blob friends are watching quietly. There's a large black blob on one of them. Around the chin. Are they gaping?

Behind me, I hear stifled giggles. Someone shushes.

"Give him a room, if you will. I know th' boss 'round here, we're kinda chummy, 'doing my job'. I used to be a guard, too-- I would weed out all the bad employees who would boss others around or slack off, didja know that?" There's the sound of someone swallowing, and I wonder if I should tone it down a bit. My voice is a bit intimidating to some people. I get it from the family.

Keys jingle and the blob in front of me is pinkish. Something metal slides over, and the thing that moved it retracts like I might sting it. "Good girl." I smirk and taunt her, reaching over and missing her face by a few inches as I pat her head. Oooh, nice hair texture. Fashionable-- smells like it might be Dova. I hate being shorter than some people. I need to invest in some heels or something.

This is probably why I shouldn't go out too much.

Adrenaline slides through me like a ghost and I feel a sense of dark amusement and smugness. I know that the receptionist is probably about to cry.

"So, y'wanna tell me what wondrous hair secrets you're hiding from the world while I buy a coffee for two, or are we gonna have'ta hang out in my room?" 

"What?"

"D'you want some coffee, or not?"

"Wh-- with you? You just--!"

"Coffee? It's freeeeee." I sing-song. 

They're quiet-- and oddly enough, pinker now. It's a few seconds before they growl frustratedly and muster a confused response. "Fine?! Piss off!" They stutter a bit, still surprised from me verbally attacking them. I cackle in my head, because there's no way in hell I'm gonna buy coffee for two people.

"Cool. We're meeting up after your shift on Saturday at six in the afternoon. My room number is unholy. Thanks for the keys. We'll go speak to the supervisor now." I stride back to the elevator, the trio behind me. My legs are shaking and my hands are so warm and sweaty I probably left a mark on the marble. 

When the doors shut and everyone is there, Blue Blob yells at me, Acquaintance also yells, and the Smaller Blob is waving around a glowing phone screen with tiny black things on it. 

"You're welcome." I pat all of them and put the keys in Acquaintance's hands, ignoring everything they say and watching the door intently. My coffee machine must have made all of my mug today. I can smell it from here.

The door slides open and when I make a move to exit, Blue Blob blocks me like they're in a football team, popping a magnificent squat with their arms out while the Smaller Blob does the same. So cute. Behind me, the Acquaintance hugs me and yells for me not to go yet.

I struggle a bit in their arms, but for such a thin guy they're awfully strong?? Why can't I be that strong?

"Am I being captured. Can I use the restroom first." I demand in a monotone, slumping a bit as I let the arms lock around my torso. 

"YES. YOU ARE CAPTURED, HUMAN!"

"Ew, they need to use a restroom?"

The only sounds I hear from the Smaller Blob are the clicks of a phone keyboard.

"Yeah, I need the restroom. If you let me go, I won't piss." The doors are being held open by the Blue Blob, who shows no signs of breaking. A family walks towards us and then retreats back into their room swiftly.

"SURE...?" Their arms are loose, so I slip under their lock, duck under the opening of the Blue Blob's arm and leg and jump for the carpeted hallway, rolling and my world is a blurrier nightmare of colors and shape. I want to die. There's something bubbling up in my gut and I can tell what it is from the acidic sting and the imaginary hiss.

"Thanks." Is said in a normal volume, as I spring up in a wobbly run and slam my open door shut. I lock it and rest my head against the white paint. Everything is still spinning, and I'm very glad for my gymnastics thing. Wow, okay. 

There's banging on my front door and loud cursing as the Acquaintance scolds the Blue Blob for cursing-- to which they only yell louder. There's also polite, desperate knocking, but I'm in the bathroom by the time they try to reason with me.

"Hi there, trashcan." I greet my trashcan as I get ready to puke. 

The world still feels like the stars are actively moving, like the world is lagging and nature's everlasting wi-fi is overheating. Global warming. I'm lagging, glitching out. Freezing up and slowing down. Pictures are slurring, copying and pasting and staying in one place. Wow, what happened to the frame rate? Someone is turning down the brightness on my eyes too.

Ooop, here comes the nausea.

**Author's Note:**

> cue the sounds of puking.


End file.
